Echoes through Time
by Phoenix Evensong
Summary: Harry Potter is affected by his trip into the Department of Mysteries in more ways than he realizes... Please read Author Note before reading.
1. Chapter 1

**Echoes through Time**

_**A Harry Potter Fanfiction**_

_**Summary: **_**Harry Potter is affected by his trip into the Department of Mysteries in more ways than he realizes…Please read Author Note before reading.**

_**A/N: SPOILER WARNING for anyone who hasn't read the books or seen the movies. **_

_**This story is AU and based in 6**__**th**__** Year. **_

_**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own **_**Harry Potter**_**. Anything you recognize from the series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I make no profit from this story.**

**I**

_The Death Eaters had chased them back into the Time Room. Harry barely registered the rows of small Time-Turners stacked neatly on mounted, glass-covered shelves along the walls, when different coloured spells whizzed past him, smashing into the shelves. Harry tried shielding himself with his arm, prophecy still in hand, as he ran across the room, glass and what seemed to be sand raining down on him from the broken hourglasses; his glasses kept most of it out of his eyes, but some still got past the frames; Harry blinked furiously as he felt sand hit the corners of his eyes, and he spluttered a bit as he tasted it on his tongue._

_Harry burst through a door ahead, realizing it was the room with the spinning wall, and then hurried to help Neville support the unconscious Hermione over the threshold. They slammed the door behind them… _

* * *

Sometimes, Harry Potter had the worst luck in the world.

Trying to do anything magic-related around the Dursleys was risky business, as they were averse to anything and everything magical. The Dursleys were Muggles, and they always over-reacted if Harry mentioned something in relation to his kind (they even flinched if he said the word 'broomstick'). They used to give him chores, neglect him, ignore him, but they rarely got physical with him (unless to cuff him over the head or lock him in the cupboard under the stairs). Harry avoided doing magic-related things like homework or practising wand movements (without doing the actual spells as he wasn't allowed outside of school while he was under-age) whilst in the Dursleys' company, so he had to resort to doing it in secret- in the dead of night or early hours of the morning while his relatives slept.

It was just his luck that this time he got caught; and he knew that the excuse of "cooking, and there were no clean pots or saucepans" wasn't going to work when they could clearly see it was a small cauldron sitting on the stove, and there were several ingredients of obvious magical nature lined up on the counter next to a set of brass scales, a silver knife, a mortar and pestle, and a few glass vials.

The Order of the Phoenix may have warned the Dursleys not to mistreat Harry this summer, but Harry knew, the moment he saw Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's eyes spy the cauldron and supplies, that the warning had just been forgotten. In the eyes of the Dursleys, he had just done something that was taboo.

It had been a long time since Harry had trembled with fear when faced with an irate Uncle Vernon. Whilst with the Dursleys Harry had put up with their overdramatic reactions to his magic; he suffered their insults, neglect and controlling behaviour- and had done his best to ignore it all to the point of not caring. But Harry knew, as soon as he saw his uncle make a beeline for him, teeth bared and rage etched into every line of his face, that this was different…

Harry sat back against the pillows, feet on top of the bed covers, and massaged his painful wrist. He hoped it was only bruised; there was discolouration around the joints and he could hardly move it without a hiss of pain escaping his lips. Sighing, Harry rested his head against the headboard and gazed at the cracked ceiling of the room he was in.

Uncle Vernon hadn't been so rough since before Harry started attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry had believed that his relatives had kept from outright beating him from fear that someone from the magical world would come and curse them or turn them into fruit bats. At first they feared this from Harry once he'd been to school, but once they'd learnt that Harry wasn't allowed to perform magic away from school the Dursleys had forgotten their apprehension. The fear returned, however, when Harry had informed them that his wizard godfather (who happened to be an escaped convict accused of murder that they'd seen on TV) would come and see to them if he heard they were mistreating Harry. Harry had conveniently left out the fact that Sirius was innocent.

Sirius Black had died just a few weeks ago. Harry, angry, depressed, and still trying to come to terms with it himself, hadn't bothered informing the Dursleys. They wouldn't care anyway. Plus, Harry would lose his last weapon against them.

At the end of the last school term, members of the Order of the Phoenix had warned the Dursleys not to do anything that would cause Harry harm or unhappiness. The Dursleys had obeyed the subtle threat and mostly ignored Harry. Harry knew they did this only to keep wizards from marching to their front door and alerting the neighbours to the fact that the Dursleys' lives weren't as normal as they appeared.

Well, thought Harry as he rubbed his tired eyes, the Order's threats were now null and void too. Harry had been caught brewing potions in the kitchen in the dead of night and, not only had Uncle Vernon shouted more insults and threats at Harry but he had also manhandled him. In his fury at his nephew's audacity to perform an "abnormal ritual" (as he had called it) in their house, Uncle Vernon had grabbed Harry and thrown him across the kitchen.

Harry winced as he remembered colliding painfully with the kitchen table and chairs, pain shooting through the wrist he was still nursing. Uncle Vernon had ordered Harry to clean up his things. No doubt he hadn't wanted to touch any evidence of Harry's- abnormality.

That might have been the end of the argument- had it not been for Dudley (woken up by the commotion) spotting Hedwig returning through Harry's bedroom window, dead frog in beak. Dudley's yelp of surprise alerted his parents, and then Aunt Petunia had started shrieking about the mess while Uncle Vernon bellowed accusations that Harry had "trained that bloody pigeon to bring you toads for more effing rituals! What's next? Bird entrails on the kitchen table while you figure out their meaning? I won't have it, boy!" He had then proceeded to stomp into Harry's room, padlock the window shut, and then had locked Harry in his room with Hedwig- all the while issuing more threats and promising harm to both boy and bird if they tried anything. Seething, Harry had reminded his uncle that if his friends didn't hear from him for three days they would come and confront the Dursleys personally.

Still sitting on the bed and following the jagged lines across the roof and walls, Harry grimaced as he remembered the results of that argument.

He had thought he'd won, having used their greatest fear against them. He was shocked, then, when Uncle Vernon, laughing nastily, had told Harry that it didn't matter if any wizards sought them out as, in a few days, they wouldn't be here. Apparently, the Dursleys were leaving to go on holiday in a couple of day's time- and, it seemed, they were planning on leaving Harry locked up when they left. They hadn't said this out loud, but Harry could read between the lines.

Harry had paced in his room, clutching his smarting wrist and waiting for the Dursleys to fall back to sleep. Then, as dawn broke across the sky, he had packed his things (making sure Hedwig was safely in her cage), picked the lock on his bedroom door (a handy little skill he had learnt from the Weasley twins) and quickly slipped out of the house and into the warm night. From there he had repeated what he'd done three years previously and called The Knight Bus.

Now Harry lie on his bed at The Leaky Cauldron, trying to get his mind around the fact that just two weeks into the summer holidays and he had already run from the Dursleys (again); he was free of them for the rest of the year- and he was very much alone.

Harry ran a hand through his messy black hair, sighing. He then took his glasses off, placed them on the bedside table, and then lain back down on the bed, not bothering to get under the covers.

These were dangerous times and, whichever way he looked at it, Harry knew he was in trouble. He didn't have a clue as to what to do now.


	2. II

II

Harry woke up later in the morning but didn't bother to get up just yet. Instead, he thought about his situation, trying to decide on what to do.

Ever since the disastrous visit to the Ministry of Magic, Harry had felt rather ambivalent; he both wanted to do something and occupy his time and thoughts, and just lie around and do nothing but think; he both wanted to see his friends, and just stay away from people in general. This state of mind did nothing at all to help him plan a course of action.

Knowing that his friends and the Order were there, on his side and ready to help him should he need it, meant a lot to Harry, but it didn't dispel the feelings of apathy he had felt while at the Dursleys'. When not writing the occasional letter to Ron or Hermione, he had spent most of his time lying on his bed, staring into space. He couldn't take his mind off the loss of Sirius; even during the few hours of sleep he got every now and again, his godfather's death haunted him...

Harry had barely felt up to anything; however, the recent incident with the Dursleys had spurred him into action. He might have gone straight to The Burrow if it hadn't been the break of dawn. Harry hadn't wanted to inconvenience the Weasleys when they were likely still in bed. They would have questioned his sudden appearance too, and he didn't feel he could have answered them. As it turned out, Harry had spent a couple of hours sitting outside The Leaky Cauldron under his Invisibility Cloak, waiting for the pub to open. The only thing that had been on his mind at the time was getting away from the Dursleys and to somewhere safe where could be alone and think.

Being alone now at The Leaky Cauldron only accentuated the feeling of needing time to himself, away from everyone that reminded him of the prophecy and his loss. Though he missed Ron and Hermione, and knew they would listen to his problems, Harry didn't want to burden anyone with his miseries. He would write to them later. Having the freedom of doing whatever he wanted without someone watching his every move was a rare occurrence for Harry. He knew it was also very dangerous at this time and he would have to be careful.

Harry was famous in the Wizarding World, however, therefore easily recognizable. This led Harry to deciding that he had to be inconspicuous- and the best way for him to do that was to continue to move around, and possibly spend most of his time in the Muggle world, where he wasn't known. To do all this Harry needed Muggle money, and to get Muggle money he needed to exchange Wizarding currency- and he could only do that in the Wizarding bank, Gringotts.

With a destination now in mind Harry sat up and stretched, wincing when he moved his wrist. Looking at it, he saw the purplish discolouration- and winced again. Sighing, Harry grabbed his wand from the bedside table and pointed it at his wrist.

"_Ferula,"_ he said.

A bandage wrapped itself tightly around the limb, splinting it. Harry examined it and tested his wrist, before shrugging and getting changed.

That morning, after a quick breakfast, Harry went out into the small courtyard out the back of The Leaky Cauldron, took out his wand, tapped the third brick from the left above the dustbin and waited for the archway to appear- and that was when he received his first shock.

Diagon Alley was a long, winding cobbled street lined with mismatching shops that sold all sorts of wizarding needs. Harry could remember his first visit here, when the street was crowded with people bustling about doing their shopping.

The first thing Harry noticed this time was the silence. There was only a slow trickle of people cautiously wandering from store to store, occasionally rushing through doors as if worried someone was going to pounce them if they weren't quick enough.

As Harry slowly made his way down the street he noticed more and more of the shops were darkened and had boarded up windows. He knew why the famous once-active alley was now so dreary. Since Lord Voldemort's return became public knowledge his followers (Death Eaters) had been attacking almost indiscriminately. A vast number of people (Muggle and Magic) had been killed or had disappeared already.

Diagon Alley had been hit just a week before. With a sinking heart, Harry covered his head with the hood of his sweater and set off towards Gringotts at a brisk pace, keeping his head down. He made it to the familiar snowy-white building in record time. Once inside he discreetly asked for his vault, filled his money bag and then quietly exchanged some of it for Muggle currency. He then stepped back out of the bank and walked back the way he came.

Looking around, he saw that Florean Fortescue's stall was empty- as were many other shops. Their windows, however, were almost completely hidden by blown-up versions of the Ministry's security pamphlets and posters of escaped Death Eaters.

Harry stopped when he came to Ollivander's. The shop's windows had been smashed and were also boarded over. Glancing around, Harry walked to the door and opened it. He heard a faint tinkling bell as he slowly stepped inside.

The shop was dark, and there were papers strewn all over the place. However, Harry could still sense the same sort of secret magic he had the last time he was here. Harry could remember that day five years ago well.

Harry's head suddenly felt very heavy, and his vision blurred. Bowing his head, Harry held his hands to his ears as he heard a high-pitched ringing that seemed to be echoing in his own head. He then felt his knees hit the floor.

The ringing stopped and his head stopped spinning. Breathing shallowly, Harry shook his head to clear it. He then jumped when he heard a cheery voice in the room.

"_Tricky customer, eh?" _Said the voice.

Harry looked up, shocked, as it continued speaking.

"_Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere- I wonder, now- yes, why not- unusual combination- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."_

Harry gasped when he saw Ollivander standing in the suddenly brightened shop, handing a long black wand to a small, thin boy with messy black hair and glasses.

Standing up quickly, Harry's breath quickened as he watched the small boy take the wand, raise it above his head, and then swish it down through the dust, causing red and gold sparks to stream from the wand like fireworks, and making spots of dancing lights on the walls.

Harry knew who this boy was- it was himself. Harry was watching himself when he had got his wand from here five years ago. But how?

He stood, pale and shocked, as Hagrid and Ollivander cheered on his younger self, though their voices seemed to echo a little. How could this be?

Ollivander was muttering to himself. _"…how curious…how very curious…"_

"_Sorry," _said the younger Harry. _"But what's curious?"_

Harry watched on with a frown on his face as Ollivander stared at his younger self, then proceeded to explain to the boy how his wand was the twin of Voldemort's, and that Voldemort's had given Harry his scar.

"_Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter…After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."_

The boy Harry shivered. So did Harry in the present. He then closed his eyes tightly so he couldn't see the shop or the curiously-vivid memory. After a few seconds, he found he couldn't hear anything either. He opened his eyes again- and blinked.

Ollivander, boy Harry, and Hagrid had all disappeared. The shop was dark and vacant once more.

Harry shivered again. He wasn't sure what had just happened, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Glancing around once more, he turned and left the shop. He then quickly made his way back to The Leaky Cauldron, not making eye contact with anyone, and not even noticing the people who had appeared along the street and who were trying to sell him things from tiny shabby stalls.

* * *

Keeping to his plans of remaining anonymous, Harry only stayed in his room at The Leaky Cauldron long enough to make sure all his things were packed, that Hedwig had food and water, and to ensure he wasn't wearing anything that would make him stand out in any way. He would be checking out later, but would likely come back once he had his school list for the next year (as he didn't know what subjects he was taking until he got his O.W.L. results.) He then hid his wand inside his jacket, made sure his room door was locked (not that he was really expecting anyone to try to break in, as the inn was quite empty), then left the pub and stepped out into the streets of Muggle London.

Even though Harry knew exactly what he was looking for, it still took him a little while to navigate through the crowded streets and find the stores he wanted. He had never shopped in Muggle London before. After a couple of hours, however, he had bought himself some casual Muggle clothes that actually fit him, some plain Muggle writing paper and a ball-point pen. He then found a small café and bought himself something small to eat. While he was waiting for his order, he took out the paper and pen and began to write.

_Dear Ron,_

_If Hermione is with you, please send this letter on to her when you get the chance._

_I'm writing to let you know that I am no longer at my relatives'. There's also no need for anyone to check on them as one: They will not tolerate our kind and two: They are leaving to go on holiday soon anyway. I am not going with them._

_I won't say where I am or what my plans are in case this letter is intercepted. Just know that I am safe and plan to remain inconspicuous. _

_As I'm not sure when I'll be able to write next, please pass this message on to the others. Also, can you please look after Hedwig for me? Thanks._

_I will write again when I am able._

_Harry_

Placing the cap back on the pen, Harry read through the message several times. He thought it was important that Ron and Hermione knew he was no longer at Privet Drive, and he knew they would pass on the news to the Order, no matter whether he asked them to or not. Even he wasn't sure of his plans at the moment… perhaps he should find a place to stay in the Muggle world for the remainder of the holidays?

No, Harry thought as he ate his sandwich, he didn't have enough Muggle money for that. He only took out enough so he could buy the clothes, and to grab meals if he needed to. He couldn't rent for long with what he had, and he didn't want to make another trip into Diagon Alley until he had his list of school supplies.

Deciding he would think on it once he was back at The Leaky Cauldron, Harry packed up and left the café.

Not wanting to risk anyone seeing and recognizing Hedwig, Harry hadn't let her fly freely since they had arrived at The Leaky Cauldron. Hedwig, therefore, was in a huff when Harry returned from Muggle London that afternoon.

"I'm sorry, Hedwig, but it was too risky," said Harry as he walked over to her cage.

Hedwig just clicked her beak at him.

"Well, you can fly now. I'll be leaving soon, and I need you to deliver this letter for me," said Harry, unlatching the cage door.

Hedwig blinked at him, and then hopped out of the cage and onto the desk it was sitting on. Harry took the finished letter out of his pocket and tied it to the owl's leg. Hedwig then stepped onto his arm and Harry carried her to the window, which overlooked a busy Muggle side street.

"Take the letter to Ron and stay there, OK?" Harry said to the owl as he opened the window. "I'll be going to a small Muggle hotel once I've checked out from here."

Harry stroked her soft feathers a few times; Hedwig then spread her wings and took off. Harry watched her until she was nothing more than a speck in the sky.


	3. III

**A/N: Thanks to all those who have followed, favourited, reviewed, etc, and to those who are reading anonymously. Just knowing there are people reading my story makes me happy. I hope you continue to enjoy reading it as much as I am writing it. Unfortunately, this chapter is a bit short. The next is longer.**

**Susan M. M: I'm a bit hesitant to answer at the moment… Your question should be answered in future chapters**

**Jharry1960: 1) In the book, I think they got their results shortly after Harry left the Dursleys a couple of weeks into the holidays. I've tried to keep fairly close to the timeline but I've likely changed it a tad, and they'll get their letters pretty soon in this story. 2) Your second question is answered beginning of this chapter. :) 3) Harry took out money like usual (for school, etc) and exchanged some for Muggle currency; he has enough money for supplies and to stay somewhere for a small amount of time, but not for long periods (hope that makes sense). 4) Harry hasn't thought of Dobby (at least not in this fic) 5) Answered (I hope) in this chapter. I believe Harry only has to be at PD for minimum 2 weeks for the protection to remain effective. **

**Disclaimer: See chapter one.**

* * *

**III**

Harry would have stayed at The Leaky Cauldron longer, had the place not been as empty as it was and Diagon Alley not as uninviting. Unlike before third year, Harry didn't want to stay here for longer than necessary; he couldn't shake the feeling of uneasiness that had settled into his stomach since entering the Alley that morning. For that reason, he had racked his brains for a place out-of-the-way, preferably in the Muggle world… and then he had remembered the hotel Uncle Vernon had taken his family and Harry while they had been fleeing their letter-filled house, before Harry had found out he was a wizard.

Soon after Hedwig had left, Harry grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's empty cage, signed out of the inn and summoned The Knight Bus again. To his annoyance, he had a time getting Stan Shunpike (the conductor of the bus) to be quiet about Harry's frequent use of their bus.

"'Ere- Ernie, it's 'Arry again!"

"Shh!" Harry said quickly, glancing around the bus. Thankfully, there were only a few people on the bottom deck and they were at the back of the bus, currently grumbling to themselves as they picked themselves off the floor after the violent stop.

"Well, where 'bouts you 'eaded this time, 'Arry?" Stan asked cheerfully.

"Railview Hotel, Cokeworth, please," said Harry.

After a few stops, Harry found himself looking out at a large, run-down looking town; a dank city of brick houses. Harry glimpsed a dirty river and the towering chimney of a disused mill. He tried to read the street signs as they flashed past, and thought he managed to glimpse one that said _"Spinner's End"._

"Gloomy lookin' place, innit? We'll drop you off down a street near the 'otel then. No good lettin' you off in front of the 'otel… give the Muggles a migh'ee fright if they see you appear outta nowhere an' all…" Stan said as a row of broken streetlights jumped out of the way of the bus as it hurtled around a corner.

A couple of minutes later the bus skidded to a halt on the gravel off the main road on the outskirts of the city (causing a tree to temporarily uproot itself so as to not be hit), and Stan helped Harry to offload his trunk. Grabbing it and Hedwig's cage, Harry thanked Stan and the driver (Ernie) and then set off towards the small miserable-looking hotel further up.

The owner of the hotel was visibly suspicious of Harry and his belongings but gave him a room anyway (Harry figured she was just happy to get some money). Harry came here because he remembered that it was a very cheap place to stay when Uncle Vernon had brought them here, and Harry didn't want to spend too much of his Muggle money all at once. He didn't think anyone he knew (bar the Dursleys) knew of this place, so it was the perfect place to hide out while he gained his bearings and made more plans.

Of course, though his friends may not have known where he was, Harry had forgotten that their owls didn't always need an address to find the recipient of their letters.

That night, Harry was just getting ready for bed when he heard a persistent twittering outside the window. Looking over, he saw a tiny owl hovering outside, its petite feet clutching a small scroll of parchment. Recognizing the bird as Pigwidgeon (Ron's owl), Harry walked over and attempted to open the window. It took several tries, as the window was rusty and peeling and seemed wedged shut from ill-use. Finally, after practically ramming the window open with his shoulder (bruising his shoulder and almost knocking Pigwidgeon out as the window suddenly popped open), Pigwidgeon was able to flutter inside. Twittering madly at his success, the owl dropped the letter onto Harry's bed and flew around the room in swooping circles, looking like a fluffy snitch.

Shaking his head at the owl's antics, Harry picked up the parchment and unfurled it, noticing pinpricks where Pigwidgeon's claws had punctured the paper as he did so. The message was from Ron. It said:

_Harry,_

_What's going on? Why aren't you with your aunt and uncle? I passed your letter on to Hermione and mum. Both are going berserk with worry, and mum has let the others know. I think they're trying to find you. I know you can't say where you are in case the letters fall into the wrong hands but can't you give us a hint? No one is going to stop worrying until they know you're safe, and I know mum and Hermione won't be convinced unless they see you for themselves._

_Please reply ASAP_

_Ron_

Harry sighed. He guessed he should have known that people were going to panic once they realized he was no longer at the Dursleys' (therefore no longer protected). He was, however, annoyed that they seemed to think he couldn't last even a few hours on his own. He looked up at Pigwidgeon (who was still flying around the room) and bit his lip, thinking. He had half a mind to wait until morning to send a reply back… give Pigwidgeon a rest from the long flight, but he didn't want people to be worrying about him the whole time either- and no doubt they would worry all night, according to Ron's letter.

In the end, Harry turned on the bedside lamp, sat on his bed and took out his pen. Then, by the unsteady light the old lamp was giving, Harry wrote a short message underneath Ron's.

_Ron,_

_I assure you I am safe and well. Please let the others know._

_I am planning to get my school supplies soon after I get my O.W.L results._

_Harry_

As soon as he'd seen Harry had finished, Pigwidgeon flew down and landed on the bedside table, hooting a little and seemingly enthusiastic about bearing a reply back to his owner.

"Are you sure? Aren't you tired?" Harry asked him.

Pigwidgeon hopped over to the corner of the desk and offered his leg. Harry thought for a moment before shaking his head.

"Sorry, Pig, but I think I'll wait for a little while. You need to rest a little."

With that, Harry grabbed a book from his trunk and sat back on his bed. Pigwidgeon hooted once more before going quiet. A few minutes later, when Harry glanced over at him, he saw the owl had his head tucked under a tiny wing. Smiling to himself, Harry went back to reading.

It was nearing midnight before Harry decided he had put off sending the letter long enough. A couple of hours after his arrival Pigwidgeon was flying back home, Harry's reply attached to his leg. Harry figured it would take the small owl a few hours or more to get to Ron's. Harry then decided he should be on the move again soon, as he didn't want to stay here for much longer. He thought for a moment about where he could go. He didn't want to return to The Leaky Cauldron until he got his letter, and he wasn't entirely sure when that would be. He had to find somewhere safe to stay until then.

It was lucky, really, that he hadn't left the Dursleys' earlier than he had. Dumbledore had said that Harry only need return to Privet Drive once a year for the protection to work, but hadn't told Harry how long he needed to stay there for.

Harry thought back to the argument he had had with Uncle Vernon before he had left.

"_You're lucky you need me here to make sure the protective wards stay up, or I would have left already! In case you hadn't noticed, I'm usually here about a month before I leave, and "_

"_You only need to be here for two weeks for that to work! That Dumby-dore bloke said so in that letter he left with you!" _

It seemed the Dursleys knew more about the protections than Harry had thought- or even than Harry had known himself. Shaking his head and running a hand over his face resignedly, Harry decided to wait until morning to make anymore decisions.


	4. IV

**A/N: First I would just like to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I've just started a new job and it tires me out. **

**I've also been working on some other fics. This chapter has been giving me a bit of trouble too. I re-wrote it a couple of times and I'm fairly happy with it now. Hopefully you enjoy it; it's much longer than the last one. **

**I have also changed the rating of this story to 'T', just to be safe.**

**Disclaimer: See chapter one**

* * *

**IV**

After a breakfast of runny eggs on cold toast, Harry thought about where else he could go. Problem was he didn't know any other places. He had always been at the Dursleys', Hogwarts, The Burrow or The Leaky Cauldron, and the only time he had ever gone camping (or close enough to it) was at the Quidditch World Cup.

Harry sighed as he repacked his books into his trunk. Where was he going to go now? He then looked out the window and froze. An owl was flying towards him, and it wasn't Pigwidgeon. A moment later it had squeezed through the window and into the room and Harry, expecting it to be one of the birds from the Weasleys, was mildly surprised to see the Hogwarts Crest on the envelope. Harry picked the letter up as the owl ruffled its feathers and left again.

Upon reading his O.W.L. results, Harry was pleased that he had passed everything (though not History of Magic or Divination but he wasn't worried about them), and had even got an 'Outstanding' for Defence Against the Dark Arts; the only disappointment was the 'Exceeds Expectations' for Potions, where he needed to achieve 'Outstanding' to continue N.E.W.T. level with Professor Snape. Harry sighed again as he realized this meant he could no longer become an Auror.

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the morning sitting by the window and thinking. The fact that he had failed in being able to continue studying to be an Auror like his parents had dragged his spirits down further; and being in the bland hotel in sight of the decrepit-looking town didn't help any. However, with nothing else to do until he could think of where to go, Harry decided to take a walk around Cokeworth that afternoon. He had never had the chance to explore any Muggle neighbourhood but Little Whinging before. Though it was summer, Harry wore his jacket so he could safely tuck his Invisibility Cloak and wand away; he then left the hotel and started the trek for the rows of terraced houses nearby.

The houses looked more derelict up close than when Harry had sped by on the Knight Bus the day before. Harry kept to the edges of the narrow streets, keeping a respectable distance from the few people he saw. Most of them wore clothes that had seen better days, were walking or riding bikes; some were smoking or drinking; Harry also passed a couple out walking their Doberman, which strained against its short leash to have a sniff at Harry's shoes. The dog's owners tugged it away quickly, watching Harry warily. This seemed to be a rough, underprivileged place, and for second-class citizens- or so Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had said in passing during their stay at the hotel. Harry had wondered how they had known anything about the place when they usually pretended such places (and people) never existed. That was until Harry had heard Aunt Petunia mention in passing to a neighbour that she had lived this way as a child- meaning Lily had too. Looking around, Harry could hardly believe his mother and Aunt Petunia had grown up here; he didn't find it at all surprising that they would have left as soon as they could.

Soon Harry came across a small park with an old swing set standing unoccupied in the middle. Harry stopped and gazed at the area, marvelling at the fact that he was standing somewhere his mother had likely stood before.

Harry started when, a few seconds later, two children materialized seemingly out of nowhere and ran to the swings. The girls were aged somewhere between ten and twelve, based on their heights and high-pitched giggles; one had long blonde hair while the younger had long red locks. Harry watched them, thinking they looked vaguely familiar, as each girl claimed a swing and started swinging backwards and forwards, racing each other higher. Harry watched them from his spot at the edge of the park with a smile on his face as their laughter echoed across the park; the innocent sound seemed to brighten the place up a bit. Closing his eyes, Harry let the sound drift over him, feeling peaceful for a moment, before the laughter died away. Opening his eyes, Harry frowned when he saw the swings were empty and still once more. He gazed at them for a moment longer, before turning and walking away.

After a lengthy walk, Harry found the river he had seen the day before. The grass was long and overrun with weeds, and rubbish was strewn all over the muddy banks. Seeing this, Harry thought briefly of the habits of Dudley and his gang, and glanced around for any signs of groups of teenagers that may have similar attitudes towards strangers here. No one was nearby, so Harry continued walking, following the river for several metres before turning into a narrow alley. He wandered aimlessly for a while, thinking.

It was strange, how free he felt being here without anyone watching him. He knew it was dangerous- Voldemort's followers were everywhere these days and you had to be careful who you trusted. Maybe that's why Harry felt quite relaxed right now; though this place was gloomy and far from safe- Harry only needed to worry about himself here. He knew it was a selfish thing to think, and he did miss his friends, but it was good to not have to worry about anything for a little while…no war, no death, no prophecies, no dark witches or wizards hunting him-

The sky darkened suddenly, snapping Harry out of his musings; he immediately stopped walking, alert and with a hand drifting to his wand hidden in his jacket. He looked around carefully, noticing mist swirling gently around the nearest streetlamp, which was lit, and feeling a chill on the air.

_Dementors_, Harry instantly thought. He withdrew his wand, feeling dread steal the warmth from his blood.

Harry continued turning on the spot, expecting to see the tall wraith-like figures bearing down on him any minute, and hear their rattling breaths as they sucked all happiness from the world-

"_Cissy, _wait!"

Harry jumped at the sound and span on the spot to face the direction the shout had come from. He heard approaching, hurried footsteps and then, a second later, two cloaked and hooded figures came into view. Harry stood against the wall as they drew nearer. The second person then grabbed the arm of the one in front and span them round so they were face to face.

"_Cissy, you must not do this, you can't trust him- "_ hissed a woman's voice. Harry shivered. That voice had sounded horribly familiar.

"_The Dark Lord trusts him, doesn't he?" _asked the first, also a woman. Harry thought she sounded vaguely familiar too.

"_The Dark Lord is… I believe… mistaken." _Harry paled as he realized the topic of their hushed argument: Voldemort. These were Death Eaters. The woman speaking looked around briefly before speaking again._ "In any case, we were told not to speak of the plan to anyone. This is a betrayal of the Dark Lord's- "_

"_Let go, Bella!"_ The other woman snarled. She withdrew a wand from the folds of her cloak and held it threateningly in the other's face. Harry felt his heartbeat quicken as he realized who the women were.

"_Cissy, your own sister? You wouldn't- " _Bellatrix Lestrange laughed.

"_There is nothing I wouldn't do anymore!"_ Narcissa Malfoy then slashed at Bellatrix with her wand like a knife, there was a flash of light, and Bellatrix let go of her arm as though burned.

"_Narcissa!" _Bellatrix exclaimed, rubbing her hand, but Narcissa had already begun walking briskly down the street again.

Harry turned his head away and tried flattening himself along the wall as they approached where he stood, feeling cold hard brick through his jacket. He held his wand tightly in his hand, ready for when they noticed him- but then they had passed. Harry gaped after them, not believing they could have possibly missed him. He stayed still for a moment, and then pushed himself off the wall and followed the sisters as they turned the corner.

The sisters darted through the narrow streets; Narcissa seemed to know where to go and led the way; Harry, realizing they were never going to notice him, followed them, feeling like he was in a Pensieve.

After a couple of minutes, Narcissa and Bellatrix turned a corner into a street named _'Spinner's End". _Harry looked at the street sign for a moment, remembering glimpsing it when he passed by on the Knight Bus, and then hurried around the corner after the sisters.

He stopped. He blinked. Bellatrix and Narcissa were not there. What was more, the sky had lightened up again, and the mist had dissolved. Harry turned in a circle, looking, but could see no sign of the sisters. He wasn't that far behind them, they should still be in this street; unless they had entered one of the houses in the few seconds Harry had taken to round the corner after them. It was either that or he was hallucinating.

Taking a deep breath, Harry slowly started walking down the street. He glanced at each house he passed, trying to see inside through the windows without looking like he was snooping. He had got about halfway down the street when a sudden loud, persistent barking made him jump a foot in the air. Startled, Harry stared at the small black Scottish Terrier in the window of the house to his right. It was jumping up and down, its front paws leaving the sill each time it barked. As Harry watched, frozen by the loud sound in the otherwise quiet street, the dog jumped backwards as it barked- and promptly toppled off the windowsill and out of sight. Harry had turned to leave when a shout made him turn back around again.

"Oi, you! What do yeh think yeh doin'?"

The peeling front door of the house the barking dog was in had opened and a woman stood in the doorway, half in- half out. She had long blonde hair, wore a long grey shirt over tights and well-worn sandals on her feet. She peered at Harry suspiciously with sharp brown eyes that belied the bags beneath them.

"Oh- um- I- I was just- " Harry stammered, glancing around and trying to think of an excuse.

"Who are yeh, walkin' along like yeh up to no good? Yeh a thief or somethin'?"

"No, I'm not… I was just- " He pointed down the street, vaguely indicating he was just passing by. The woman, who looked to be perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties, had raised a dark eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

"Nothing… I was doing nothing," said Harry, trying to sound casual and shrugging. He used the motion to pocket his wand again and gave the woman what he hoped looked like a reassuring smile. Her eyes had narrowed, however, and her arms were crossed; she clearly had not fallen for it.

"Well, why don' yeh do "nothin'" somewhere else? Go on!" She replied sharply, jerking her head towards the end of the street Harry had come from.

Harry nodded, turned around and walked swiftly back the way he came. He stopped when he got to the end and looked back, but the woman had disappeared back into her house. Harry gazed down the street again. There was something about this place; something dark and mysterious…and why had Harry just seen Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange? What were they doing in a Muggle settlement? Had he really seen them? They had taken no notice of him whatsoever… What in Merlin's name was going on? Harry shook his head forcefully, feeling a headache coming on, then turned and left, making his way back to the hotel.

* * *

As soon as he got back to the hotel Harry had a long drink of water, and then spent the rest of the day lying awake on the bed, staring at the mouldy ceiling and thinking. He felt he really needed to leave now, especially after- whatever had happened during his walk. But where to go?

He had his letter now, and so could return to The Leaky Cauldron soon to get his supplies, but when to go? Harry didn't want to return so soon after leaving, but he couldn't stay here. Plus, he wanted to keep an eye on the news of the Wizarding World, and he couldn't do that whilst in the Muggle world. He wasn't receiving the _Daily Prophet_ for one. But where could he stay within the Wizarding World where he wouldn't be easily recognized? The answer came to him soon after he received another letter from his friends.

That night after dinner, while Harry was checking how much Muggle money he had left (this was his third count as he couldn't get the hallucination- or whatever it was- out of his head), Errol came crashing into the window. Harry watched him resignedly as he hopped onto the window sill, looking a little stunned. Harry then immediately untied the letter attached to Errol's leg, picked him up and carefully placed the owl into Hedwig's cage so he could have a rest and a drink. Errol hooted his thanks.

Unfurling the new piece of parchment, Harry read it apprehensively. He was a little nervous about what they were doing to find him.

_Dear_ _Harry, _

_Please give us a clue as to where you are, and what you are doing. We've been looking everywhere for you! I heard someone even checked The Leaky Cauldron for you. __We have our letters now. When were you thinking of getting your school supplies? Perhaps we can meet there? Mrs. Weasley wants us all to go together. She says it's too dangerous for anyone to go alone._

_I hope you are alright,_

_Love from Hermione_

Harry bit his lip as he read the letter. It seemed she was with Ron, most likely at The Burrow. It also sounded like people were still searching for him. Harry didn't want to be found, not just yet. He wanted some time alone, he needed to be able to get his head around the prophecy… and what happened in the Ministry.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Harry sat down on the bed. He had been feeling quite drained lately, but his mind had remained active… hence why he had risked brewing potions at the Dursleys'. He had been brewing a small batch of a basic Sleeping Draught, as he hadn't been getting much sleep at all since… that night. Of course, he hadn't been able to finish it since Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had caught him. Harry then glanced at his trunk, remembering that he hadn't had a chance to properly clean his cauldron, as he had packed it and the potions supplies away as quickly as possible when Uncle Vernon had demanded it all cleaned away.

Harry read the letter again. It sounded to him as though they were attempting to get him to tell them where he was so they knew he was safe and so Mrs. Weasley (at least) could keep a closer eye on him. He realized he was being irresponsible, hiding out like he was, he knew they were likely frantic by now, but he couldn't bring himself to tell them, he didn't feel he could deal with a whole group of people right now. But Harry knew he had to answer this letter. He had said in his last message that he was getting his supplies once he had his results, after all. He would have to come up with a date and let them know, and meet them there as Hermione suggested. He would also have to find another place to stay until then, because he wasn't going to stay here any longer. He had only paid for two nights at any rate. Where could he go that would be the last place people would look, somewhere that wasn't popular?

Harry thought of all the places he had been where he could go again, which were very few. He would return to The Leaky Cauldron later, there was no place in Diagon Alley that he knew of (plus it wasn't safe to stay there now anyway, that was for certain)… that left… Hogsmeade. Could he perhaps stay in Hogsmeade for a time?

Standing up, Harry paced while thinking.

The Three Broomsticks… perhaps not, it was much too popular and he would likely be noticed there… that left…

"Yes," Harry whispered to himself.

The Hog's Head was an inn and pub, was off the beaten track, cheap, and he could hide himself more easily there (visitors were well-known to hide their faces). Harry had been there once, as Hermione had chosen (a bad choice at the time) the pub for the initial meeting of the D.A. That's it, Harry would go to The Hog's Head, and would hopefully be able to stay there until he returned to Diagon Alley.

"Up for a ride on The Knight Bus, Errol?" Harry asked the old owl.

He thought he saw Errol's eyes widen slightly, as though the owl was horrified by the idea.

"Sorry, but it's the only way I'm getting anywhere," said Harry, making sure the cage door was safely locked. He shoved Hermione's letter into a pocket, and then went to pick up the cage. He paused. He hadn't had an owl with him when he had arrived. The lady would surely be suspicious if he left with one, not to mention he wasn't even sure whether animals were allowed here. He didn't think so.

After a moment's thought, Harry quickly went over to his trunk, opened it and took out the jacket he had worn earlier, having taken it off when he got back; he pulled the Invisibility Cloak from the pocket.

"Think you could be still and silent for a few minutes while we get out of here?" Harry asked Errol. If he hadn't had the habit of talking to Hedwig like this, he would feel a little silly asking the owl this, but these owls were extremely intelligent and Harry knew they could understand what people were saying to them.

Errol gave a quiet hoot and Harry, taking that as an affirmative, smiled and unlocked the cage door. He gently covered Errol with the Cloak, bundling the excess material inside the cage too, and then locked the door again. He then stood back and nodded. The cage looked as though it were completely empty, and Harry doubted the hotel owner would remember whether it had a perch in there or not (Errol was perching on it so it was also currently invisible).

Harry then quickly grabbed his hooded sweater from the trunk and pulled it on, locked the trunk, and then picked it and the cage up and went downstairs to sign out. A few minutes later and he was walking down the road towards the place where he had been dropped off by The Knight Bus the day before. Almost groaning out loud at what Stan's reaction would be this time (this would be the third time straight in two days Harry had called the Knight Bus), Harry stuck out his right arm.

BANG

Harry quickly jumped out of the way as the triple-decker bus skidded to a stop in front of him, sending gravel flying in all directions. The bus doors then opened and Stan leapt out and started speaking.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wi-"

"Yes, I know, I've only called you three times within the last forty-eight hours," said Harry wearily.

Stan stuttered to a halt and looked at Harry in surprise.

'''Arry- again!" His face then lit up in delight. "Where to this time?"

"Hogsmeade, please," said Harry, boarding the bus.

"Righto, 'old tight, then."

BANG

Harry fell onto the nearest bed, glad to see beds instead of the chairs that were there by day. He placed his trunk by the foot of the bed, hoping it wouldn't slide too far with the movement of the bus, and placed the cage on top of the covers. He then climbed into the middle of the bed himself. He waited until Stan had climbed the narrow staircase to one of the upper decks before he uncovered Errol and stuffed his Cloak securely into a pocket. Stan looked a little confused when he saw the slightly ruffled bird when he came back but said nothing, and Harry ignored him. Instead, he took out Hermione's letter, the pen and a book from his trunk to lean on so he could write a reply.

_I have also received my results. I was at The Leaky Cauldron but I'm not staying in one place for long. I plan on returning in a few days to get my supplies._

_Harry_

That would do for now, thought Harry. The letter was a bit messy, as he had had to try to compensate for the jerky movements of the bus; currently just about every other word was an illegible scrawl.

"Where abouts in 'Ogsmeade, 'Arry?" Stan asked Harry a few minutes later after the last passenger before Harry had disembarked.

"The Hog's Head, please."

"Ar, watch out for them bed bugs I hear they have there," Ernie the driver suddenly said.

A minute later and they were trundling up the darkening, misty track of Hogsmeade, and a moment later had stopped outside the inn.

"Thanks," said Harry as Stan once again helped him with the trunk and cage. Harry had winced this time when he used his left hand; though the splint was helping, the wrist was still quite painful.

"Always welcome, 'Arry," said Stan cheerfully. "Jus' call us anytime you 'ave need of The Knight Bus."

The bus left with a resounding BANG after that. Harry, making sure his hood covered his head again, turned around and gazed for a moment at the pub's sign that was swinging slightly in the wind; the boar's head with blood leaking onto the cloth. Clutching the handle of his trunk with one hand, and the cage in the other, Harry then pushed the heavy door open with his body and staggered inside.

The pub was just as he remembered it from his visit here last year. The bar was one dingy room that smelled strongly of goats, the floor of earth accumulated on top of stone over years. Presently there were only a few people inside; two hooded wizards wearing ragged travelling cloaks, and what Harry guessed was a small witch that was reading a copy of _The Evening Prophet _in a corner_. _No one seemed to realize or care that an underage wizard had just entered the pub.

Moving further inside, Harry hoped that he would be able to stay here unnoticed. He also realized that his Muggle clothes and hood were no suitable disguise really, but he had nothing else besides his school robes in his trunk, and they would be even worse to wear right now. He slowly made his way up to the bar, head down, and stopped in front of the counter. He felt a bit uneasy being here, but there was nowhere else.

Harry took a deep steadying breath, feeling suddenly light-headed; that odd ringing sound in his ears.

"…_We're not out of bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come in the Hog's Head, and he said yes, but he advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. And I've looked up everything I can think of about study groups and homework groups and they're definitely allowed. I just don't think it's a good idea if we _parade_ what we're doing."_

Harry stared, shocked, at Hermione, who was bundled up in warm clothes and standing beside him… but there, beside her, was Ron and another Harry; all looked a bit blurred at the edges, but seemed to glow as if lit up by some unseen light.

"_No," _said younger Harry dryly,_ "especially as it's not exactly a homework group you're planning, is it?"_

Harry closed his eyes. He remembered having that conversation with Hermione only last year, when they had come here for the initial meeting about forming a Defence group with other students (as Dolores Umbridge wasn't teaching them any defence whatsoever).

"What do you want?" A voice grunted suddenly in front of Harry. He jumped and opened his eyes. The old barman was standing behind the counter, staring at him impatiently. He was old and thin, and had a lot of long grey hair and beard. As before, Harry thought he looked vaguely familiar, but couldn't place where he might have seen him before, besides here last year.

Harry glanced to the side before answering. The other Harry, Ron and Hermione were gone. Deciding he must be fatigued, and that's why he was seeing things, Harry brought his attention back to the man in front of him.

"Um, could I have a Butterbeer, please?" Harry asked, feeling very thirsty all of a sudden.

The barman snatched a very dirty bottle from behind the bar and placed it roughly on the counter.

"Two sickles," he said.

"And how much to hire a room?"

The barman looked Harry over with an appraising eye.

"Three Galleons per night," he said gruffly.

"Could I hire a room, please?"

"How long you staying for?" The barman asked, sounding annoyed.

"I'm not sure yet. A night, maybe two... Do I pay in advance or can I pay each night I stay?"

"I'd prefer you pay up front," was the curt answer.

Harry thought for a moment.

"Fine, two nights."

"Name?" The barman asked, slamming a register on the bar and sending dust into the air.

"Dudley," said Harry, saying the first name that came to mind.

"First name?"

"I- Vernon. Vernon Dudley."

The barman paused while writing the name and looked Harry over again. To Harry's disquiet, his eyes moved slowly over his face and scar, though Harry wasn't certain whether he could see anything in the dim light. After a moment the man finished writing Harry's false name down.

"You're in room three," he said, gesturing up the narrow rickety stairs behind the bar, "and that's six Galleons for the room and two sickles for the drink."

Harry got out his money bag and handed over the correct amount of money. The barman put it in the ancient wooden till (which opened and closed automatically) then disappeared to what Harry figured was a back room of some sort, leaving Harry alone at the bar.

Once he'd wrenched open the top of his Butterbeer (which was difficult as his wrist was still hurting him and the top was very stiff), Harry sat at the bar quietly and drank his drink. He kept an eye on the other customers, but they did nothing and left after a while, wrapping themselves in their cloaks before exiting the pub and disappearing into the darkness.

Harry eyed the staircase when he had finished his drink. He let his eyes flick between the awkward looking stairs and his belongings while he thought about how to get up there. In the end he thought there was nothing for it, and just grabbed his things like before. He dragged the trunk to the foot of the stairs while carrying Errol in the cage with difficulty in the other hand, his injured wrist now more painful than ever after lugging them around so often. Harry then started to make his way slowly up the stairs, step by step.

He was halfway up the staircase when the barman came into view at the bottom of the stairs. He was watching him closely.

"Why don't you just levitate them, boy?" He asked impatiently.

"What?" Harry asked.

"It would be quicker if you levitated them, and then you would be out of everyone's way," said the barman in a tone that suggested it was the obvious answer.

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't do magic."

"You a Squib, are you?" The barman asked, sounding like he already knew the answer, and climbing the stairs until he was just below Harry.

"I'm not a Squib," said Harry, annoyed with the man. "I'm not allowed to do magic away from school."

"You obviously don't know the rules, boy."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused. "The only time I'm allowed to use magic outside school is if I'm in a life-threatening situation or I'm given permission."

"That's in the Muggle world!" The barman snapped.

"I suppose…"

"You're not in the Muggle world, boy, or have you forgotten where you are?"

"I'm in Hogsmeade," said Harry irritably. "What's that got to do with anything?"

The barman sighed in exasperation.

"Hogsmeade is the only non-Muggle settlement in Britain, you can perform magic here!" The barman barked. "Now, unless you're planning on sleeping on the stairs, I suggest you get a move-on."

Harry quickly took out his wand and pointed it at his trunk.

"_Locomotor trunk." _

The trunk rose a few inches into the air and Harry guided it upstairs with his wand, holding the owl cage in the other hand. Room number three was just a little way down the narrow hallway. When Harry got there, the barman (who had followed Harry the entire way) flicked his wand at the door- which slammed open, bouncing off the wall behind it. The man seemed to be in quite a foul mood indeed. Not wanting to be in his company for much longer, Harry quickly thanked the man and entered the room, closing the door.

He guided the trunk onto the floor at the foot of the bed and set the cage down on the flaking wooden stool that was by the grubby window. There was no desk in here. It was very dark, so Harry quickly lit the lone candle that was sitting in the middle of the small wooden bedside table. The candle sputtered, the wick low, wax already caked all over the small dish the candle was sitting on.

Harry sat down on the bed, the springs creaking loudly, and looked around the small room; the bed, the stool, the bedside table, a narrow, peeling wardrobe by the door and the cold, unlit fireplace- that was all that was in here. Well, Harry had come here for the cheapness, and he wasn't staying long. Errol hooted from inside the cage, pecking at the lock briefly. Harry looked over at him.

"You're right. It's probably about time I sent my reply back. Here…"

Harry went over to his trunk and opened it. After a moment of shuffling his belongings around, he found the small bag of owl treats and took out a few. He opened the cage and placed the treats on the floor, leaving the door open so Errol could come out if he wanted to. He then grabbed the pen and hastily added a post-script beneath his untidy message.

_P.S. You may want to think about giving any future letters to another owl to bring to me, as I think the long flights are getting a bit much for Errol._

"Here you go, Errol," said Harry a minute later, tying the letter to the owl's leg securely and carrying him to the window. "Fly safe."

Errol took off out the window.

* * *

_**A/N: I'm hoping 3 Galleons per night is cheap, but not too cheap. I've tried looking up the Muggle equivalent, so I can only hope it's about right. **_


	5. V

******A/N: I realize this chapter is very short...**

**Shadowsmage: Oh, we use dollars here in Australia and I'm terrible at math myself. I used an online converter (it converted to galleons as well) and hoped it was about right… Thanks for the review :)**

**geetac: Sorry for my late response. Thanks for your review :) I'm glad you enjoyed the chapters and I hope you continue enjoying the story. **

**Disclaimer: See chapter one**

* * *

**V**

Harry knew he had to be extra careful now he was somewhere he could be easily recognized. Therefore, the next afternoon Harry donned the Invisibility Cloak so he could enjoy a walk around Hogsmeade without being seen. Though it was summer holidays there weren't that many people in the village, and Harry didn't have much trouble dodging people as he made his way down the street.

He stopped briefly in front of Zonko's, not sure where to go. He looked in the direction of The Three Broomsticks before deciding against it (it would be silly to visit such a popular place when he was trying to hide). Instead, Harry turned around and walked the other way, not really knowing where he was going until he had passed Dervish and Banges. He kept walking until he had turned a corner, and then he stopped. Harry gazed at the stile that stood at the end of the lane near the foot of the mountain, the one where he, Ron and Hermione had met Sirius back in fourth year…

Harry's vision blurred abruptly before correcting itself. Blinking, Harry shook his head in confusion before looking up again. He stared in disbelief.

Standing with its front paws on the top bar of the stile, papers in mouth, was a large black dog, its fur matted and in desperate need of a comb. Harry blinked again several times. It was Padfoot…could only be Padfoot…and yet he looked blurred around the edges, like he wasn't quite _there_.

"_Hello Sirius."_

Harry looked round, frowning, and gaped when he saw himself, Ron and Hermione walk up to the dog. Padfoot sniffed the bag the other Harry was carrying then turned and trotted away, the trio following him.

"I must be more fatigued than I thought," Harry said quietly to himself as he pulled off the Cloak, stuffed it in a pocket and followed them up the slope. There was only one situation he could think of where he had seen another of himself running about the place, and that had been third year when he and Hermione had gone back in time to save Sirius. Harry didn't have a Time-Turner in his possession, so didn't understand how he was seeing these things. Deciding he should probably brew a Sleeping Draught when he got back to the Hog's Head, Harry continued to follow his past-self and companions until they reached the cave Sirius had stayed in two years ago. They disappeared suddenly, fading from sight, as Harry squeezed through the narrow fissure in the rock.

The cave had not changed, and Harry spotted a few chicken bones and disintegrating newspapers on the dusty floor. Harry looked around the small cave, not really knowing why he was here. He felt safe, however, and, knowing he wasn't likely to be disturbed, he walked to the back wall and sat down. Feeling exhausted after the steep climb, Harry settled back against the rough wall until he was comfortable and closed his eyes. Soon enough he fell into a fitful sleep, his dreams haunted, as always, by Sirius's final moments and a smashing prophecy.

* * *

It took a few moments before Harry remembered where he was when he woke up. He then noticed the fading daylight outside the cave and checked his watch. It was six- thirty. Harry got up and stretched (wincing as he felt his wrist twinge), still feeling tired even though he had just slept for three hours. He then exited the cave and made his way back down the steep path, trying not to trip over large rocks and boulders. About twenty minutes later and he was climbing over the stile and walking swiftly down the lane back to Hogsmeade.

When he reached the outskirts of the village, Harry stopped and pulled the Invisibility Cloak from his pocket. He threw it back on before making his way more slowly down the street, wondering where he could risk eating dinner. He thought for a few minutes while he walked, before deciding to eat at The Three Broomsticks after all. It was likely the pub would be quite full at this time, therefore less likely anyone would pay him much more than a passing glance. At least, he hoped that would be the case. He would go back to the Hog's Head when he was done.

As it happened, Harry was right. After slipping off the Cloak in a shadowy corner Harry entered The Three Broomsticks apprehensively. It was dinner time and so the pub was crowded. Harry kept his head down as he walked to the bar. To his immense relief, Madam Rosmerta appeared in too much of a hurry to do more than give him a glance as she took his order before hurrying to deliver trays of drinks and appetisers to the correct table. Harry made his way to a free two-seater table at a back corner of the pub and sat down, facing the room and the door so he could keep an eye out. He slowly sipped his Butterbeer while waiting for his food, taking in the other diners. There were a good thirty plus people here; small families with restless children; couples having a romantic dinner; elderly people enjoying a rare dinner out; friends meeting during a lull in a hectic week; and some, like Harry, just eating alone.

After several minutes of waiting, Harry's bangers and mash arrived and he dug in, enjoying his biggest and warmest meal since leaving the Dursleys.

* * *

A storm was brewing by the time Harry left The Three Broomsticks. The wind threatened to strip the Invisibility Cloak off him as he walked down the street. Harry held fast to it as he passed darkened cottages on his way back to the Hog's Head. He checked his watch as he passed a lit streetlamp, hearing a rumble of thunder as he did so. It was eight-fifteen. Harry lengthened his strides, wanting to get back to the inn before the storm hit.

The wind ceased abruptly, causing Harry to stop dead in his tracks; he looked around for the cause but could see nothing. All was still and quiet. A sudden shout made Harry jump in alarm and reach for his wand, raised voices making him look round at the nearest cottage, which had a tidy white picket fence out the front.

Still hidden under the Cloak, Harry stood still in the middle of the street as a man and woman exited the cottage. Both looked to be perhaps in their mid-fifties. The woman wore an apron over her flowery dress, her wand sticking out of the pocket, and her grey-streaked hair was in a strict bun. The man wore a threadbare cloak over his clothes and was holding a glass bottle. He tottered into the street, looking astonished, while the woman watched on from the front garden, looking sceptical.

"_It was a stag and a couple o' dogs, I tell ya! They was jus' walkin' down the street, not a care in the world." _The man was saying as he peered down the street, brushing his straggly hair out of his eyes with stained fingers.

"_You've had too much Firewhiskey, dear," _the woman said. _"What would a deer be doing walking around with someone's dogs, eh? And why in Merlin's name would they be wandering around Hogsmeade, hmm?"_

"_I dunno know, do I? But, I swear, they was righ' over there!" _The man said, waving the bottle in the general direction and causing whiskey to slosh over the ground.

The woman tutted, hands on hips, before sighing and walking to the man's side.

"_Come along dear, back inside." _

The woman took hold of her husband's arm and, gently but firmly, steered him back into the cottage.

A strong gust of wind slammed into Harry at that moment, making him stumble. He looked up at the overcast sky as the wind ruffled the cloak as if it had never ceased. Bolts of lightning split the sky in quick succession, accompanied by a low growl of thunder. Harry gazed curiously in the direction the man had indicated he had seen the animals, squinting into the shadows across the street for any sign of deer or dogs and peering at the ground for any indication of imprints in the dirt. There was nothing. Frowning, Harry looked back at the cottage the couple had come from- and blinked. The picket fence, which had stood neat and intact a minute before, was now covered in ivy and had several boards missing.

Feeling completely baffled, Harry stood in the street, blinking dazedly at the cottage, before another rumble of thunder reminded him that he needed to get a move on. Still feeling distracted by what he had just seen and heard, Harry continued on his way to the Hog's Head, smelling rain on the air.

A wizard was just stepping out of the inn when Harry arrived. Rushing forward, Harry only had to stop the door for a second with his foot so he could slip inside. Two wizards playing poker were the only customers left in the pub.

"You're bluffing," Harry heard one of them say as he passed them. He quickly climbed the stairs, thinking about cleaning his cauldron so he could brew a sleeping draught, and only took off the Invisibility Cloak when he was safely back in his room.

Glancing around the room, Harry noticed there were no owls. Harry wondered whether he was going to receive another letter from concerned friends tonight or if his last letter had soothed their anxiety. While thinking about this, Harry folded the Cloak neatly, wincing as he moved his wrist, before opening his trunk. He placed the Cloak on top of his clothes, before reaching for the small cauldron.

A blinding flash of lightning made Harry blink furiously, an accompanying clap of thunder making his ears ring. Harry looked up at the window as rain began pattering on the glass. The storm had arrived.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…"_

Harry jumped up at the voice and spun on the spot, wand in hand.

"Wha- "

There, sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace, was Professor Trelawney, her face slack and her eyes unfocused. She continued to speak as Harry stared at her in shock.

"…_born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not..."_

Harry felt his heartbeat speed up as he realized- this was the prophecy he had recently heard in Dumbledore's office!

"…_and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…"_

Not understanding why he was seeing this, Harry glanced around the room and his eyes fell on another figure. Albus Dumbledore stood in the room near the door, staring at Trelawney. Harry glanced between them as Trelawney let out a grunt then seemed to come back to her senses. Both Professors looked semi-transparent.

"_I'm so sorry, Professor… I've been feeling a little under the weather today…I must have dozed off, I do apologize…" _said Trelawney.

Dumbledore, who had been watching her intently, merely smiled.

"_Think nothing of it, Sybill," _he said genially, though Harry noticed he looked a little preoccupied.

A sudden commotion outside the door had all three turning towards it. There was a hurried knock on the door. Dumbledore walked forward. Another deafening clap of thunder made Harry jump, and he turned to look at the window, the wind making the glass rattle in its pane. He turned back to the door as he heard another knock. Crossing the empty room he unlatched the door and pulled it open.

Harry froze, shocked, when he saw who was standing in the hallway.

"Snape?" He gasped.

* * *

**A/N: Please don't curse me…**


End file.
